Twinning the Hatchet
by ryagelle
Summary: Complete! The twins are up to their usual shenanigans, and Ratchet gets caught in the middle. Disclaimer: All recognizable characters property of HasTak. Not me. G1
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Ok, this is just something that my crazy mind came up with and just wouldn't let go, so here's the first Ratchet/Lambotwin fic I've ever seen.

I'm a twisted, twisted person.

Ratchet was pretty sure he was losing his mind.

The thought came to him sometime after midnight as he lay on his recharge pad, a sudden epiphany that caused him to frown. It was more than his usual 'You guys are going to drive me crazy' rant that he went into when his fellow 'Bots came limping into his medbay expecting him to put them back together again—after all, how the frag else could he have managed to get himself into this situation?

He jumped and nearly cried out when a clever-fingered hand slipped under his chest plating and stroked the sensitive cabling there, startling him out of his musings. He gasped a little at the sensation, before realization sent him into full-blown panic mode. "'The frag're you doing!?" he yelped before he could stop himself. The hand never halted its exploration and he squirmed a little under the caress.

"What d'you think I'm doing?" The owner of the hand murmured in his audios, not yet noticing his discomfort. The slender fingers slid lower on his frame, and he couldn't hold back a soft noise of pleasure.

"This shouldn't be happening," Ratchet panted, trying to draw away from this mech who had been his lover. "We shouldn't be doing this!"

The other 'Bot sat up abruptly, apparently just becoming aware of the tenseness vibrating through the medic's body. "What's wrong? Ratch?" he asked softly, peering down at the smaller mech. He reached out to gather the CMO up in his arms—perhaps as a comforting gesture—and Ratchet flipped.

"Don't touch me!" he cried, and scrambled to extricate himself from the tangle of mechs on the 'charge pad, waking the third member of their little ménage a trois with a groggy "Wha-?" and stood trembling as the two others watched him, one with optics wide and concerned, one groggy and confused.

"Ratchet, what-?" was all that the newly-awakened one got out before the CMO blurted, "I have to go," and bolted out the door.

When he realized where he was and calmed down somewhat, he was standing in the medbay, staring aimlessly at one of the tables with its rack of gleaming tools and wondering what the frag had happened to professionalism and not getting involved.

"What now, Ratchet?" he murmured despairingly, burying his face in his hands.

Back in the medic's quarters, two mechs stared at the door in astonishment.

"What did you say to him?" Sunstreaker demanded, still trying to focus optics blurred from recharge.

"He just freaked," Sideswipe replied absently. "I swear!" he added, rubbing where the golden twin had cuffed him and glaring. Sunstreaker lay back down, frowning up at the ceiling.

"Told you this was a bad idea," he grumbled.


	2. Chapter 2

It had started as a bet.

Both twins regretted that detail in the end.

They were all overcharged one night on a particularly potent high grade that Sideswipe had managed to acquire when said mech declared that he could seduce any 'Bot in the Ark. He couldn't remember who had challenged that statement, or who had suggested the Hatchet as the target, but he could remember telling Bluestreak to take down the wagers and send them to him in the morning. Sunstreaker protested, of course, but in the end turned a blind optic to it because he couldn't talk Sides into giving it up.

Before the end of the next day the red twin had badgered his grumbling yellow brother into helping, and the game was on. He tried not to lay it on too thick in the beginning—he didn't have any desire to be caught and face the medic's wrath.

He wasn't suicidal, after all.

He started out by memorizing Ratchet's schedule. It allowed him to know where the CMO was going to be and when, and if said mech was suspicious of the suddenly ubiquitous presence of one or both of the Lamborghini twins, he hid it… sort of.

"If I trip over you slagging aft-heads one more time, I'm gonna rebuild you into toasters! Now get out of my medbay!" Sunstreaker winced as his brother failed to dodge a thrown tool and got a sizable scratch in the paint on his shoulder. "Well that went well," the yellow mech muttered under his breath as both brothers made a hurried exit.

"Our technique needs a little work," Sideswipe commented as they made their way to their shared quarters.

"You think?" Sunstreaker asked, a little crossly.

"Well, obviously," his brother replied. "We knew when we started that he was gonna be a tough nut to crack—"

"I can't believe I let you drag me into this," the yellow twin interrupted, and Sides grinned.

"Neither can I," he said cheekily, earning himself a smack.

"I have a feeling that we are so gonna be slagged for this…"

"C'mon, Sunny, where's your sense of adventure?"

"Right where I left it. Besides, adventure plus Ratchet equals our afts welded to the ceiling. And don't call me Sunny," Sunstreaker pointed out, and Sideswipe had to concede.

"There has to be some way to get to him, though…" Sides mused.

"Yeah, ain't no way we're going to lose this bet when everyone else is favoring Ratchet—just think of how our reputation would suffer," Sunny added. "We'll just have to step it up a little. You know just as well as I do that he already cares what happens to us, or he wouldn't get so mad when we come back from battle slagged to the Pit."

Sideswipe nodded. "At least we're not working with a clean slate here—," he paused as a thought occurred to him, then slumped as he rejected it just as quickly. "A 'pity me, my twin is hurt' ploy will more than likely just get things thrown at us…"

"Definitely a last-ditch effort," Sunstreaker agreed, optics narrowing. "I hope you weren't planning on me being the hurt one."

The red Lambo grinned innocently. "Why of course not, Sunny! Would I do something like that to my dear beloved brother?"

"Don't call me Sunny. And yes, yes you would."

Sideswipe ignored him and keyed in the entrance code to their door. "We've got to have a plan… and get a little bolder. This sneaky business is getting us nowhere fast. It's time to bring out the big guns."

The night they spent scheming was wasted, however. The next day, the Decepticons attacked.


	3. Chapter 3

Ratchet's spark clenched in the old familiar fear and anger when Sideswipe carried what was left of his twin into the medbay. How the red Lambo had managed to get away with minimal damage while his brother got slagged was a mystery Ratchet decided was best left for another day after taking one look at Sideswipe's expression.

"On that table, now," he ordered, and red twin complied reluctantly, not wanting to let go of his brother. "Is anyone else this bad?" He had to tap Sides on the head to get him to answer.

"What? Oh, no, everyone else is walking wounded." The red warrior never took his optics off of his golden brother, even when Ratchet yelled for First Aid and Wheeljack to come deal with the others who were beginning to trickle into the medbay.

"Get out of my way, Sideswipe," he snarled at the hovering Lamborghini, and immediately felt bad about causing the kicked puppy look Sides directed at him. Primus, they were getting even further under his dermal plating than usual if he was considering toning it down for the sake of the red slagger's feelings—them being underfoot almost constantly for the past couple of weeks had not helped any. He couldn't help it. They were almost… pleasant… to be around when they weren't raising merry hell. He was already far too attached to the unrepentant brats—_OK, Ratchet, focus. Put Sunstreaker back together, then ponder moral dilemmas._

He surveyed the damage, trying to think of this as only another job, and sighed to himself with a soft cycling of vents. It was going to take him all day to get the yellow 'Bot back in one piece—and that was if Wheeljack and 'Aid handled the rest of the injured. He glanced around, making sure that everyone else was well in hand—there _were_ only minor injuries, after all—and got to work.

"So how did this happen, exactly?" Ratchet asked conversationally, trying to at least distract the red twin, since he knew it would be impossible to boot him out with his brother so badly hurt.

Sideswipe blinked at him stupidly for a moment—a solicitous Ratchet was out of character, and it threw him for a loop. "Oh! He was playing Jet Judo with Starscream again— " He flinched when Ratchet cut him off.

"He did what?" The CMO asked dangerously.

Processors clearing as life reverted to a more normal situation, Sides opened his mouth to repeat himself, but Ratchet didn't give him time to get one snarky word in edgewise.

"How many times am I gonna have to tell you slagging sparklings not to antagonize the Seekers? I know they're shiny and brightly colored, but can't you resist the urge to grab just once? Every time—_every time_—you two pit spawn take on those jets one or both of you comes back in pieces to my medbay and _I_ get to put you back together." He removed a fried relay so savagely that Sides was glad that his brother was offline and couldn't feel it. "One of these days— "

"You're gonna rebuild us as alarm clocks!" Sideswipe chirped, leaping eagerly at the chance to interrupt. Really, this was more like it! Who needed a melancholy Ratchet with a pleasant bedside manner, anyway? His Ratchet had to be surly and snarly, or it wouldn't be any fun at all to antagonize him.

Wait—_his_ Ratchet? Did he just think that? That fragging bet was going to be the death of him.

Ratchet gave him a pointed look that was wasted on the red Lambo twin. " I was going to say," he replied quietly, "that I'm not always gonna be able to put you back together."

Silence in the wake of that remark; Sideswipe had nothing with which to rebut that statement that Ratchet was not already well aware of. This was the purpose for which they had been designed—to throw themselves into the thick of battle with little regard for their own lives, just as the medic's purpose was to put them back together again if they returned alive. Unspoken was the understanding that it had been easier to be a battlefield medic when the warriors in the field weren't also your friends, easier to hold the front lines when your comrades didn't care whether you lived or died.

Sobered by that grim realization, both mechs were quiet as Chief Medical Officer Ratchet worked to save Autobot Sunstreaker while Sideswipe kept silent watch.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: There is slashy/adult content in this chapter. Don't like, don't read.

It was late when he finally finished with Sunstreaker—the fragging golden Pit-spawn was going to have to live with being ugly until he acquired a fresh coat of paint, but at least he _would_ live—and Wheeljack and First Aid had long since finished with the other wounded, including Sideswipe, who had left his brother's side to be repaired only begrudgingly. The three of them were alone in the bay; Sides stared at him expectantly.

"He'll be fine," Ratchet said wearily, wiping energon-stained hands on a fresh cloth. "Let him get in a full recharge cycle and I'll clear him for light duty in the morning." He began putting his tools away, carefully cleaning them and his work surfaces as he did so. He missed entirely the flash of relief followed by a calculating look in Sideswipe's optics as he organized his set of laser scalpels.

He only looked up when a black hand laid gently over his own just as he laid the last tool in its proper place, and bit back a startled gasp at seeing the red twin's face so close to his own—and seeing such a fierce expression in his optics.

"Thank you," Sideswipe said in a low voice, then did the unthinkable.

He kissed him.

Ratchet stilled, CPU scrambling to come with the proper way to deal with this situation and drawing a blank.

_Sideswipe_ was _kissing_ him.

It was a not-altogether-unpleasant human custom, his fritzing processor decided, and began to _kiss back._

A little niggling voice in the back of his head told him he would be sorry about this later, and it was so not fair to be pulling this slag on him when he was off-kilter from stress anyway. The rest of him told it to shut the frag up because it felt fragging_ good_.

Sideswipe's version of seduction was a battering-ram against what was left of his logic functions, which were quickly overwhelmed by sheer sensation.

_Primus,_ but his hands were _everywhere._

How they ended up in his quarters, across the hall from the medbay, he wasn't quite sure. What he was sure of, however, is that somewhere along the way some part of him—the part that was currently in control of his motor functions—had decided _'to the Pit with it'_ and started giving as good as he got. After all, repeatedly piecing this slagger back together had to have its advantages; he knew both brothers inside and out, and was gratified to wring a breathy cry from the bigger mech just before they tripped over his 'charge pad and landed sprawled across it with the Lambo twin pinning the white 'Bot down.

Neither of them spoke; to have done so would have broken the tenuous web of desire that they both were wrapped in. The only sounds were the frantic cycling of vents as overworked cooling systems fought to keep core temperatures down, the quiet rasp of metal on metal from the motion of their bodies, and the various noises of pleasure that neither of them could refrain from making.

It was both an eternity and no time at all before Ratchet's world collapsed into a bright burst of pleasure when his systems reached critical status, and he was dimly aware of Sideswipe stiffening above him and emitting a low moan as he too achieved overload, energy snapping and crackling along all of their relays.

It was some time later when he felt Sunstreaker ease onto the 'charge pad with them and burrow into Ratchet's back, wrapping his arms and legs around them both.

Feeling incongruously, impossibly safe and contented, Ratchet lay in the dark and wondered just when he had lost his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

"I _said_ I. Need. My. Paint. Wheeljack."

"And _I_ said, We. Don't. Have. Any. Sunstreaker. Not in your color, anyway. Guess you'll just have to wait until tomorrow when the next shipment comes in," Wheeljack retorted cheerily, headfins flashing. "You'll live."

Sunstreaker gestured angrily at his mottled paintjob. "I can't go out looking like this!" he wailed, loud enough that Ratchet stopped pretending to count inventory long enough to look at him for the first time this morning, and Sideswipe stopped moping and pretending he was not watching Ratchet.

"Oh, shove it up your tailpipe, Sunshine," the red twin said sourly. "At least you're in one piece."

"Says the mech who's already gotten _his_ paint touched up. And my name's not Sunshine," Sunstreaker snarled back.

"_First Aid_ did that _yesterday_ because I was the last one to be repaired except for you. And I can't help it if you use so much paint that we're out of your color, you sociopathic dandelion—"

"Ooh, where'd you learn such big words, you—"

What looked to be working its way up to a beautiful argument was neatly derailed when Ratchet calmly shoved Sideswipe off of the table where he had perched to snipe at his brother.

"Out."

"What?"

"Out," the CMO reiterated, pushing Sides again without as much force. "I'm in no mood to hear you two bitch at each other this morning."

"But Ratchet, my paint—" Sunstreaker whined.

"Will be sent to you tomorrow when it arrives. Please," he added desperately when the patchy yellow Lamborghini's expression became mulish.

The twins shared an alarmed look. Ratchet never,_ ever_ pleaded with them. He yelled at them, he had temper fits, he threw things, but he _never_ begged.

::This is bad:: Sunstreaker sent to his brother.

::Really bad:: Sideswipe agreed. ::This is our fault. We have to fix it::

::What's this 'we', kemosabe? Last I checked, _you_ were the one with the great idea to jump his bolts on a dare:: The golden twin felt his brother wilt at that, then become determined once again, though his expression never changed.

::Then it's _my_ fault and _I_ have to fix it:: Sides returned grimly, and turned his attention back to the situation at hand.

::When did _you_ get so concerned?:: Sunstreaker demanded, but never received a reply.

Meanwhile, Wheeljack was looking from the brothers to Ratchet and back again in confusion. "Did I miss something?"

"No."

"Yes."

Wheeljack blinked. "Huh?"

Ratchet and Sideswipe glared at each other. "Leave. Now," the medic gritted, advancing menacingly on the Lamborghinis while waving an arc welder. "If you don't," he added maliciously, "I will personally mangle you beyond recognition."

"Now Ratchet, no need to get violent—" Sideswipe said placatingly, exchanging a horrified look with his twin.

"GET!" the medic roared, leaping at them. They didn't need to be told what would happen if he caught them—they beat a hasty retreat. Ratchet slumped, setting the welder down wearily and rubbing his optics with his thumb and forefinger, only to jump nervously when Wheeljack laid a concerned hand on his arm.

"Ratchet? You ok?" his oldest friend asked quietly, peering into his optics. Ratchet looked away.

"No, 'Jack, I'm not," the medic replied honestly. His fingers gripped the table so hard it creaked.

"Care to tell me what's wrong?"

Ratchet hesitated. "C'mon Ratch, I'm your best friend. You know you can trust me." Wheeljack was startled when his friend's face crumpled.

The white mech opened his mouth, coughed a little, tried again: "Sideswipe—" he shook his head. "Sideswipe… came on to me last night. And I let him," he added despairingly. "He… we… aw, frag, why is this so hard…?" Wheeljack patted his shoulder comfortingly, suddenly understanding what his friend was getting at as all the pieces clicked into place and vowing to take that fragging Lambo's head off.

"S'all right, Ratch, I get ya." Oh yes, everything was falling neatly together, he thought, recalling a little _bet_ that Bluestreak had been babbling about in the common room a couple of weeks ago. Frankly, he was surprised Ratchet hadn't heard anything about it; they must have been taking great pains to hide it from him. Wheeljack himself had ignored it because he didn't think anything would ever come of it—he didn't think even the twins would be so crass as to mess with Ratchet like that. They _had_ to have known how fond the medic was of the two troublemakers—everyone knew that the more Ratchet yelled at you, the better he liked you.

Apparently, he was wrong, and they really would stop at nothing to win a bet. Well, let that piece of slag try to collect one iota of his winnings—Wheeljack would find some way to ruin him. Though the red Lambo _had_ appeared more than a little upset himself this morning…

Regardless, as the humans say, there was no use crying over spilled milk, and it was time to make sure Ratchet didn't land himself in a funk over all this. And if for some reason this all actually worked out, (and the romantic in Wheeljack secretly hoped that it did, for Ratchet's sake if no one else) then maybe the physical aspect at least would give the medic some outlet to release some of the stress that keeping their little outfit together put on him.

The Lancia deliberately put a lecherous expression on his face as he wrapped an arm around Ratchet's shoulders and leaned in close. "So what's he like?" he leered conspiratorially. "Did his brother join in? I've heard that they're demons, and they like to share—"

"'Jack!" Ratchet managed to sound scandalized, but couldn't seem to help the little grin quirking the corners of his mouth at his friend's irreverent antics. "I'm being serious!"

"So am I," Wheeljack deadpanned. "Answer the question, and tell the truth, now."

Ratchet snorted. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"I try," the engineer preened innocently.

The white mech wandered over to a shelf and took down a box of supplies to sort through, and Wheeljack thought for a moment that he was not going to answer.

"Well," Ratchet drawled, examining a servo thoughtfully, "Well, I would have to say…"

"Oh, get on with it, already!" Wheeljack said impatiently, receiving an amused look in return.

"It was passable," the medic said slyly, optics gleaming with remembered passion.

"He blew your circuits, did he?" the engineer chortled, walking over to slap his friend on the back. "It's about damn time someone did!" He paused as a thought came to him. "If the interfacing was that good, then why were you so upset?" he asked, and cursed himself when Ratchet's optics clouded with misery again.

"I can't get too attached. How would you like it if your lover came back slagged again and again, and you couldn't do anything but put him back together and hope that the next time wouldn't be the last? I'm not sure I can handle that; it's bad enough as it is. And I'm not sure I could keep it the relationship purely physical, either—you know how I am, 'Jack, I just can't keep it separate from my emotions." He stopped for a moment, head bowed. "And to answer your question, Sunstreaker didn't come in 'til after we were done. All he did was lay down and cycle back into recharge, too, so don't go gettin' any ideas. I think he just missed his brother… Anyway, not long after that was when my logic circuits caught up with the rest of me, and I panicked and left. I just…" he cycled air through his vents in an explosive sigh. "I don't know what to do," he confessed helplessly. "I'm slagged either way—if I pursue this I'll lose them to battle, and if I push them away I'm letting my fear take them from me; I'm terrified that I'm already too involved for it to make much of a difference regardless."

Wheeljack shuttered his optics in grief at that, glad that his faceplate hid most of his expression. "You are, to quote the humans, in a pretty pickle, old friend. My advice is to go for it though—might as well be happy for as long as you've got them, instead of torturing yourself by putting them just out of your reach. Besides, you have no idea when or even if they'll get deactivated by the enemy, but if you give up on them now, you'll lose them for certain."

Ratchet nodded at that, looking determined. "I think I'll pay our resident twins a visit tonight, after we're all off-duty. We have some things we need to discuss," he said, and Wheeljack patted his back again encouragingly.

"Oh, and Wheeljack?"

"Mm?"

"Breathe one word of this discussion to anyone and you're slagged."

Wheeljack grinned behind his faceplate. "You got it."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Ratchet was exhausted by the time that he keyed in the access code to the door of his quarters. The combination of a lack of rest coupled with the fact that Fireflight had once again collided with one of his brothers in midair—this time the unfortunate Silverbolt—was causing him to think that he might be better off visiting the twins _after_ getting in some recharge.

It wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing for the slaggers to think he was still mad at them, after all.

He quickly realized that the decision had been taken out of his hands the moment that he stepped over the threshold of his room, however—for there, sprawled deep in recharge across the 'charge pad like the World's Biggest Puppy Pile, were Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

How long had they been waiting for him (and how had they gotten past the lock)?

_I'm gonna need a bigger berth,_ he thought, watching the pair in bemusement, and sighed. Turning, he wandered around the room, making sure the two heathens hadn't disturbed anything—if they had, they had hidden it well—then flopped down into the office chair in front of his terminal with a soft groan of relief. He swiveled around in the seat, thinking he might just drop offline right there—and came nose-to-chestplate with Sunstreaker.

"Primus!" he yelped, nearly knocking the chair over in his startlement. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

Sunstreaker regarded him grimly for a moment, head cocked to one side, then unceremoniously hauled the medic to his feet and pulled him over to the 'charge pad. "You'll get stiff if you recharge over there," the yellow twin said gruffly, shoving him down to lie beside a sleepily amused Sideswipe.

"Got a way with words, don't he?" the red Lambo snickered, scooting over to make room for the medic—and his brother, who squashed both of them further against the wall in order to fit his own frame into the rather overcrowded berth.

"Shut up, you," Sunstreaker snarled, reaching across Ratchet to thwap his brother on the head. The white 'Bot tensed, hoping he was not going to be stuck in the middle of a brotherly war; he was abruptly reminded that Sunstreaker could be quite savage at times even with his own sibling, and he _so_ did not want to be in the line of fire, thank you very much.

"Hey, relax," Sideswipe murmured in his audios, shifting around to cuddle up closer to the medic. "We're not going to eat you."

"Then what exactly _are_ you doing?" Ratchet could feel the yellow twin making himself comfortable against his back.

Sideswipe made a show of yawning, imitating human behavior. "We're recharging. What does it look like?"

"Uh-huh. You have your own quarters for that, you know," Ratchet replied dryly.

"Get on with it, Sides," Sunstreaker muttered, voice muffled against the medic's shoulder.

The red twin's expression became stubborn, and he opened his mouth to reply, but Ratchet cut him off.

"If you're going to try to seduce me again, please wait until I've had a decent night's rest. Or at least until your brother is out of the room, if you're that desperate."

Sunstreaker made a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter while his brother protested his innocence.

"And I'm not desperate," the red twin finished mulishly, glowering at nothing.

This prompted another guffaw from Sunstreaker. "Oh, you are so! You've done nothing but gush about it all day," he said, still snickering.

"Have not."

"Have too."

"Have not."

"Have—"

"All right, that's enough," Ratchet interrupted, embarrassed both at the thought that Sideswipe had been _gushing_ about him and the twins' display of childishness. "Look, can't you two argue about this somewhere else?"

"No," Sunstreaker replied calmly. "I got dragged into this by bit-brain here—"

"Hey! I didn't twist your arm, you know!"

"—and we're not leaving until everything is fixed," he finished as though his twin had never spoken. "And as for the matter of me leaving the room, the only reason I wasn't there last time was because I was lying unconscious on a medbay table after being put back together." He pushed himself up on one elbow to glare at Sideswipe. "You could've waited for me, you know," he growled.

Ratchet's optics widened as that little revelation sank in.

"No I couldn't! It was very spur-of-the-moment, after all," Sideswipe protested. "And you were too laid up by Starscream anyway."

"Uh, guys?" Ratchet ducked a little when two sets of optics turned to him.

"What?" they demanded simultaneously.

"I'm _right here_. This whole arguing over me right in front of my face is a little unnerving."

They regarded him for a moment, then promptly ignored him.

"You know," Sideswipe said thoughtfully, "we're all here now…"

Sunstreaker nodded. "Yeah…" He paused. "But it's my turn this time." And before Ratchet could so much as squeak in fury at being discussed so cavalierly, Sunstreaker's fingers were dipping beneath his windshield, and he uttered a strangled gasp.

Not to be outdone, Sideswipe caught his lips in another of those human kisses he seemed so fond of. "It won't kill you to share, brother," he murmured after breaking away.

Ratchet was drowning in sensation as their hands explored every inch of him that they could reach, though some part of him dimly noted that they never actually touched each other except accidentally. "I'm not a toy," he managed to protest, vents cycling furiously to keep his systems cool.

"We know," Sunstreaker breathed into his audios, forging the connection between them just as his brother did the same—and the medic shrieked as feedback from both twins flooded his processors simultaneously.

"Oh, Primus," Sunstreaker moaned raggedly. "Ah—Sides, no wonder you—" He broke off with a shudder, gripping Ratchet's arm so tightly it was sure to leave dents.

"Told you," the red warrior gasped, tangling himself more thoroughly up in Ratchet's arms, while the white 'Bot writhed between them, hands roaming wherever he could manage to touch on both of his lovers.

They all reached overload within moments of one another, warning messages flashing across visuals just before the force of it offlined them.

Hours later, Sunstreaker was the first to wake. He propped himself up carefully on one wobbly elbow, regarding the white and red medic between them thoughtfully. He winced a little when his gaze touched on the hand-shaped dent in Ratchet's upper arm. He had raised a shaking hand to stroke it soothingly when he realized that Ratchet was awake and staring at him.

"It's not a big deal," the medic said calmly.

"Yes it is," the yellow twin replied softly. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't. I wasn't aware of it until just now."

"Look… Ratchet—"

"No; don't worry about it. I mean it. It was worth it, you know," Ratchet interrupted firmly. Sunstreaker 'hmph'-ed uneasily, but let it go.

"Does this mean you're not gonna run away again?" Sideswipe's lazily sated voice startled them both into jumping, and Ratchet swatted him affectionately.

"Yep. Does this mean I'm gonna have to get a bigger 'charge pad?" the medic returned, half-jokingly.

Sideswipe pretended to think about that for a moment, then declared, "Yes!" with the air of having made a Very Important Decision.

Sunstreaker opened his mouth to put in his two cents' worth, then shut it with a frown.

"What's the matter, Sunny?" Sideswipe asked, suddenly all business upon seeing his twin's concern.

"Have you checked your chrono recently, Sides?"

Sideswipe blinked at him stupidly. "No, why?"

"Because Prowl just commed me to ask why we hadn't reported for patrol duty yet."

"Oh, frag!" the red twin yelped, optics widening as he verified that, yes, they were indeed late for patrol. "We are so fragged…" he moaned pitifully, thunking his head against Ratchet's chest. He peered hopefully up at his lover, giving him the best puppy dog face he could manage—except, the medic had long since become immune to Sideswipe's puppy dog face.

"You're on your own with this one, boys," Ratchet said cheerfully, patting Sideswipe on the head. "I'm not officially on duty today, just on call, so I had no reason to set an alarm," he added when Sideswipe's expression turned sour.

"C'mon, Sides," Sunstreaker said wearily, rolling off of the berth to stand up. "You know he'll just come looking for us if we don't go ahead and get our afts up there."

"Yeah, yeah," his twin grumbled, deliberately planting an elbow in Ratchet's midsection as he clambered over the medic to get to his feet.

"You'll pay for that later," Ratchet growled, swinging his legs over the edge of the 'charge pad and sitting up.

"Whatever," Sideswipe waved one hand airily. "Like you could take me," he said teasingly, sashaying over to the door.

"We'll see about that," Ratchet replied menacingly.

"Ooh, I look forward to it," the red warrior snickered. Sunstreaker just shook his head, and, with one last look at the medic, followed his brother out.

Once the door slid shut behind them, Ratchet fell back on his berth with an explosive sigh.

"Those two are going to be the death of me," he muttered.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I'm not much of one for author's notes, but I would like to correct something that I have been remiss in doing: I would like to thank each and every person who has reviewed my humble little scribble. I never once expected such talented folks as you all are take an interest in this, considering this is the first time I've written anything seriously creative since high school some seven years ago. You really know how to make a girl squee with happiness. XD

Also, huge huge thanks to okamimyrrhibis for beta-ing and my twin for being supportive. You guys are so awesome.

And now the fic:

Sideswipe was miserable.

After receiving the obligatory punishment from Prowl for having reported late for duty (they had date with a bucket, a brush, and the washracks this evening), he and his twin had set out on their assigned patrol route. They had been given the tamest area that the Second-in-Command could think to give them, since Sunstreaker had technically not been released from light duty only status.

This, unfortunately, gave the red warrior plenty of time to think, and his thoughts were decidedly Not Happy. It had occurred to him that Ratchet trusted them a great deal despite his penchant for yelling and/or throwing things at them—and what he had done, making a game out of winning the medic's affections, was beginning make Sideswipe feel very uneasy.

He could tell that his brother was picking up on it, too; he could feel the yellow Lamborghini 'watching' him through the bond they shared. Two halves of a whole, they were unable to keep anything secret from one another, and this was no exception.

::You're not going to be able to keep him in the dark forever.:: Sunstreaker's sudden intrusion into his mind startled him enough to make him swerve, his alt mode's tires losing purchase for a brief moment before he regained control.

::I can try.:: Sides replied grimly.

::It won't work. He's smarter than you are.::

::So?:: the red twin retorted stubbornly.

::So, he's gonna go ballistic when he finds out the real reason you started this with him.:: Sunstreaker pointed out, then paused. ::And personally, I'd like to know why you're so concerned with continuing it. You were supposed to fix this situation last night, Sides, not encourage it.::

::This from the mech that decided it was his 'turn'.:: Sideswipe sniped back. Sunstreaker sent a mental approximation of a defensive shrug.

::So I was curious.:: he muttered. ::All you talked about yesterday was 'Ratchet' this and 'Ratchet' that. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.::

::Yeah, yeah:: his brother returned dismissively, then abruptly sped up to drive alongside the golden Lamborghini and nudge his fender playfully. ::So was I telling the truth, or what?:: he asked smugly as Sunstreaker veered away sharply to avoid more damage to his already-abused paint job.

::Hey, watch it! I don't want to add red streaks to the bare patches, rust-bucket!:: They drove in silence for a moment, then, so quietly Sideswipe almost thought he had imagined it ::You were right. It's been a long time since either of us has had anyone close to that good.::

Silence enveloped them again. ::You know, Sunny, I've been thinking…::

::You'll hurt yourself again.::

::Ha, ha, very funny. Seriously, I've been wondering if he's really that good, or if it's just been that long since we actually gave a fig about anyone we've been with.::

A pause. ::You really care that much about him, don't you?::

Softly ::Yeah. It scares me if I think about it too hard. I just… never meant to hurt him. I wish I'd never made that bet.::

::It scares me too.:: Sunstreaker admitted, almost inaudibly. ::And he is so gonna be pissed at us when he realizes what we've done. I'm afraid he might not forgive us this time.::

Sideswipe slammed his brakes on and transformed, Sunstreaker belatedly following suit. The red twin sat down heavily, head in his hands, and his brother crouched beside him with a hand on his shoulder. "Sideswipe? Sideswipe!"

"I've really messed up this time, Sunny," Sideswipe said hoarsely. "All for a stupid drunken bet that I'd give anything to take back."

Sunstreaker patted his brother's shoulder awkwardly. "Hey, he might get over it, you never know," he said, forcing himself to be optimistic for Sideswipe's sake.

"Who, Ratchet the Hatchet? The mech that's more likely to throw his tools at you than repair you? I doubt it."

"Look, moping about it is going to get us nowhere. We'll just have to do damage control on the bet as soon as we get off-duty tonight." Sunstreaker stood up carefully, pulling his brother to his feet with a gentleness that he had never revealed to anyone else.

"Yeah," Sideswipe muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face and leaning against his brother just a moment longer than necessary. "Let's hurry up and get this patrol over with. The sooner we get back to the Ark, the sooner we can get started."

* * *

Complete silence fell over the common room of the Ark when Ratchet walked in.

"What?" he barked, and all optics quickly turned away from him, but conversation was slow to resume. Wary, he crossed the room to pick up a cube of energon and selected an empty table in one corner to drink it. He had barely sat down and raised it to his mouth, however, when Jazz sauntered over and plunked himself down in the seat beside him.

"Nice dent," the Porsche observed, optics twinkling.

Ratchet made a noncommittal sound.

"That good, huh?" Jazz chuckled, slapping him on the back cheerfully.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the medic said defensively.

"C'mon, Ratch m'man, I saw the twins go in your quarters yesterday and I saw them come out again this morning." The saboteur shook his head. "I never thought they'd manage it, but it looks like I was wrong."

"Manage what?" Ratchet asked, outwardly calm. Inwardly, he was beginning to panic at the black-and-white's implications.

"Why, win the bet, of course!"

"What bet?"

Jazz regarded him in surprise and no small amount of sympathy. "You didn't know, did you? I figured you would have found out by now, with as much as everyone's been yapping about it."

"I was not aware of it," the ambulance said stiffly. "Am I to understand that they made a _bet_ as to whether they could… could…" he choked, unable to finish the sentence.

"Man, you've been had," Jazz said softly. "Been had good, too."

"Yes, it does appear so, doesn't it?" Ratchet asked grimly. "If you'll excuse me?"

"Sure, sure," the Porsche nodded understandingly as the CMO stood and began to walk away, untouched energon cube forgotten on the table. Jazz stared after him for a moment, concern on his face and vowing to himself that this would be the last time he made assumptions about anything ever again.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Wheeljack looked up as the door to his workshop cycled open and Ratchet stalked in. The expression on his face was of furious hurt.

Aw, frag. Someone's told him.

The medic got right up in Wheeljack's face and hissed, "You knew." It wasn't a question.

The engineer answered anyway, backpedaling a little as though expecting to be hit. "Yeah… I'm sorry."

Instead, Ratchet's face crumpled and he closed his optics for a moment before regaining control. "Sorry? You mean to tell me that you _knew_ this _whole slagging time_ and never said anything about it? You actually _encouraged_ me to pursue this with them _knowing_ that it was _ONLY A BET?_" He couldn't seem to keep his rising voice from becoming a little hysterical.

Wheeljack flinched miserably. "Look, Ratch, I just didn't want you to be hurt—"

"And you didn't think that letting me make a fool of myself would hurt worse?"

The inventor's optics snapped back up to look at his friend. "I didn't think they had any intention of collecting on that bet—they would have been crowing about it yesterday morning. Besides, didn't you see Sideswipe's face? Something was eating at him—and that made me think that maybe he was regretting the bet, or else I would've told you the minute I found out what had happened." A sudden thought struck him. "You were with them again last night, weren't you? You wouldn't have been _this_ upset if you hadn't."

Face twisting in an anguish the medic rarely showed, Ratchet shocked Wheeljack by pitching himself headlong into his friend's arms. The Lancia held him awkwardly, patting his back to comfort him as he shook. They couldn't cry as the humans did, but sometimes Wheeljack wished they could—it seemed to help with the pain.

"Hey, hey, calm down, it'll be all right…" he murmured to the shuddering medic.

"No it won't," Ratchet mumbled against his friend's shoulder plates.

"Yeah, it will. It only _seems_ like the end of the world," he replied lightly, trying to get a smile out of the CMO and failing.

"It's been so long since I've done anything like this—gotten this involved—I can't forgive them, 'Jack," the medic whispered.

"Want me to plant a bomb in their quarters?"

Ratchet snorted and pulled away from his friend's embrace. "No."

"You love them, don't you?" Wheeljack asked softly.

"I don't know." A pause, then, in a small voice, "I do know I care about them."

"Then tell them. Talk to them, work it out. I have it on good authority that they were overcharged at a party when they made the bet, and _I_ would bet my last cube of energon that they wish it had never happened."

"I meant it, Wheeljack. I can't let it go, not this quickly. This is too much, even for them."

The inventor nodded. "Alright then—I don't blame you—but you know you won't be able to avoid them forever. They're gonna end up on one of your repair tables again sooner or later, with the way they fight."

Ratchet laughed humorlessly. "I know. But I'll cross that bridge when I get there, I guess. If… if anyone comes to the medbay in pieces, I'll be in my quarters. Otherwise, I would really appreciate it if you or First Aid handled it for now."

"Anything you need, Ratch," Wheeljack murmured, watching the medic walk slowly back out the door.

* * *

Jazz was waiting for them at the entrance to the Ark when they got back. "I wouldn't go anywhere near medical today if I were you," he greeted them conversationally.

"And why is that, exactly?" Sunstreaker asked suspiciously.

"Cause the Hatchet's not happy at all, and he might decide to rip out your sparks for fun," the saboteur replied.

"And you're telling us this because…" Sideswipe trailed off expectantly.

"Just a friendly lil' warning."

"Uh-huh. What'd you _do_, Jazz?"

"Well, it ain't so much what _I've_ done as what he knows that _you've_ done, if you catch my drift," Jazz said, almost apologetic.

"I'm going to kill you," Sunstreaker snarled, lunging at the Porsche with burning optics, but Jazz darted out of the way, evading the bigger 'Bot easily. Sideswipe only watched them as though he didn't quite understand what he had heard, his breath hitching in his intakes.

"Hey now!" Jazz cried. "Calm down, man, calm down! Sides, a little help with your brother, please!" This seemed to snap the red twin back to reality, and he quickly leaped on his enraged yellow sibling and wrestled him to the ground as Sunstreaker yelled every obscenity he could think of—and there were many.

"Thanks, man," Jazz said gratefully, heaving a sigh of relief.

"Don't thank me," Sideswipe grunted, still trying to hold down a struggling and cursing Sunstreaker. "The only reason I helped you was because Prime would lock us in the brig and throw away the key if we killed you."

Some of the sparkle went out of Jazz's optics at that, and he nodded grimly. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth—I didn't know it meant so much to you—but you gotta admit that you brought it on yourselves."

All the fight went out of the hissing and spitting yellow twin at that, and Sides 'oomphed' as he collapsed underneath him. "Yeah, we know," the red warrior said wearily as he climbed to his feet, holding out a hand that his brother disdained to take.

"Oh, and Jazz?" Sides added, pausing to look over his shoulder as he and his brother passed through the main doors of the Ark.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the heads up, but if Sunny or I see you anytime in the next few days, I won't be held responsible for what will happen to you."

Jazz just gravely nodded his understanding.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"This was a spectacularly bad idea, Sunny," Sideswipe grunted, wedging himself a bit deeper into their little hidey-hole—a little mountainside cave not really all that far from the Ark.

"Shut it, Laser Breath," Sunstreaker gasped back, spitting out a mouthful of the energon beginning to pool in his intakes. Sideswipe listened about as well as he always did—which is to say, not at all.

"My leg is fragging _gone_, you're leaking energon all over the place, and our communications are shot all because _someone_ decided we could take on a Seeker trine all by ourselves," he rattled on, dodging the half-hearted kick his brother aimed in his direction. "Now we have to wait until they figure out that we're not checking in from patrol and hope that they actually come looking for us—not to mention hoping that our _benevolent_ CMO who just _loves us to pieces_ feels like putting us back together." Despite his flippant tone, he felt a little stab of pain as he finished his diatribe—it had been nearly an Earth month since Ratchet had spoken to or even looked at them. During that time, Sunstreaker had become even more withdrawn and moody than usual—the minibots took to hiding from him, and everyone else learned to be wary of what they said to him—and Sideswipe hadn't had the spark to pull even one prank.

Hence, their current situation.

After all, what better stress relief than beating up on some Decepticreeps? (It was much better than being thrown in the brig for beating up on Autobots. Prime was so _touchy_ about stuff like that.)

It had actually been pretty fun at first—until Skywarp had managed to throw Sunstreaker off. It had all gone downhill from there.

The Seekers were gone now, spewing insults and no doubt cursing their inability to find the badly damaged twins, but it left the pair stranded, with no real way to mark their position. The presence of the three jets would have at least given the Autobots something to investigate—their absence meant that the brothers would have to trust to dumb luck, since there was no way Sideswipe was going anywhere with his legs so badly damaged, and there was no way that Sunstreaker was going anywhere without Sideswipe.

Sideswipe scooted himself over so that he leaned against his brother's back, and it was an indication of how hurt they both were that Sunstreaker didn't protest. "He's gonna blow a fragging gasket over this, you know," he commented, laying his head against a yellow shoulder.

"Yeah," Sunstreaker murmured tiredly, not having to ask which _he_ his brother was talking about.

The red twin sighed, then, violently, "Primus! I hope he does! I hope he yells, and throws things, and… and…" He choked, emotion causing his vocalizer to short. "He wouldn't even _look_ at me, Sunny," he finished brokenly.

"You love him," Sunstreaker replied quietly, causing his brother to slew his head around and look at him. Before Sides could formulate a response, however, he added "So do I."

Sideswipe turned back around, staring blindly at the cave wall. "I—you're right," he whispered. "Primus," he laughed bitterly. "We're so messed up. In love with the one 'Bot who'd love nothing more than to see our smoldering wrecks. And it's our own fragging fault."

Sunstreaker nodded. "It's not likely to matter. Our chances of being found before one or both of us bleeds out are slim to none."

"Yeah, we won't have to worry about it after that," Sides added softly. "I won't have to see the fragger's face every day and wish he didn't hate us. Though—I kinda wish we could have told him."

Silence fell after that; there was nothing more that needed to be said. They waited, together, without hope.

* * *

"They're_ what_?" 

Prime repeated himself patiently. "Sunstreaker and Sideswipe have not reported back from patrol; they are missing and assumed damaged. We need you to go along in case they need emergency field repairs."

Ratchet nodded with a kind of numb disbelief, and followed the big Autobot leader to where the others slated for this search-and-rescue mission had gathered. There were not many there; Ironhide was checking and rechecking his cannons, Prowl stood looking calm as ever, faithful little Bumblebee talked quietly with Bluestreak, and Jazz fidgeted off to the side, looking a little guilty. They all looked up at him with varying degrees of concern and sympathy when he walked in to silently stand beside the weapons specialist.

"Are ya alright, Ratchet?" Ironhide asked softly, but the medic only stared resolutely ahead and didn't answer.

Prowl wasted no time in briefing them all on the situation, advising them of the patrol route taken by the twins and the locations of possible hiding spots that they may have made use of, as well as who they would be paired with if they had to split up. He found himself matched with Ironhide.

"I want everyone to exercise extreme caution out there. Do not engage the enemy unless absolutely necessary, and stay with your search partner no matter what. If you get into trouble, call for backup," Optimus warned them, looking hard at his CMO. "Understood?" A chorus of "yessirs" answered him. "Good," he said grimly, and sent them on their way.

Ratchet was stopped on his way out the door with a hand on his arm.

"Be careful, old friend," Prime said quietly, catching and holding Ratchet's optics with his own. The medic nodded, and Optimus released him without another word. Ratchet hurried to catch up with the others, trying not to think too hard; the understanding that had been in their leader's optics had nearly undone him after a month of trying to forget everything that had happened between himself and the twins.

He had discovered that, angry as he was at them, he couldn't help but feel a little lost at not having to chase them out of his medbay on a regular basis. He missed Sideswipe's snarky responses and Sunstreaker's unrepentant glares when he lectured them; he had noticed that Sideswipe's desire to find 'things that make Sideswipe giggle' had diminished, while his brother's tendency toward moodiness and aggression had increased.

Wheeljack had harped at him about it, reiterating that he needed to talk to them, but Ratchet—still so very hurt and angry—had paid him no mind and continued to ignore the Lamborghinis' attempts to garner his forgiveness.

Now he wished that he'd taken his friend's advice.

_They might be dead,_ a little voice in the back of his mind taunted. _Shut up,_ he snarled back, furiously. _They're not dead! I won't let them be!_

_But you hate them, don't you?_ his mind sniped smugly. _No! I lo—_ He shook his head, wonderingly, then finished the thought tentatively. _I _love _them, the stupid slaggers…_

"Oh, frag," he whispered to himself.

"You ok?" Ironhide asked, pausing in his search to look at his companion.

Ratchet blinked at him for a moment. "Yeah… I'll be alright," he said gruffly.

Except, he was not—would not be until they found his lovers and brought them home.

_Primus, let them be alive._


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: For those of you who wanted a longer chapter, here's a little treat:

The sun was beginning to set.

"We're gonna hafta go back soon, Ratchet," Ironhide said quietly. "It ain't gonna do us or them no good if we miss 'em in the dark."

Ratchet nodded wearily; between the lot of them they had covered nearly all of the territory that they had meant to search anyway, and they were all exhausted. From the sound of things, the others were becoming just as dispirited as Ratchet and Ironhide were—Prowl had sounded positively worn out during his last communication.

Ratchet scrambled up the next slope, more dirt layering itself over his white chassis, carefully scanning the new area as he listened to his companion huffing and puffing his way up after him.

"Ah'm gettin' too old fer this," the weapons specialist groaned, "and there's grass in all o' mah joints." As if to demonstrate, he plucked a bit of greenery—with roots still attached—out of one elbow.

"I suspect you'll live," the medic replied dryly, not really paying all that much attention to the grumbling red mech. He swept the area again with his sensors, and sent a rock flying with an angry kick—nothing, again. When he got hold of those two idiots, they would pay dearly for worrying him like this.

He tried not to think that he might not get the opportunity to do so.

"—_mblebee to Ratchet_!" 'Bee's panicked transmission startled him out of his frustrated thoughts.

"_Ratchet here_," he sent back, suddenly both hopeful and terrified.

"_You need to get to our position, now! We… we found them… Please hurry!"_

With no memory of having actually started moving, Ratchet found himself half-sliding back down the slope, Ironhide cursing and clanking along behind him. The next few minutes were a blur as they ran as best they could across the rough landscape—and there, there were the others, clustered around two still forms lying on the grass in front of a little cave.

The medic noted that Prowl had had the presence of mind to patch Sunstreaker into his own fuel lines for an energon transfer; Jazz was in the process of doing the same with Sideswipe. He unsubspaced his field kit and knelt between the two Lamborghinis, doing a quick scan to determine who was the most badly wounded, and cursed furiously at what he saw.

Sideswipe was beginning to stabilize; the worst of his wounds was the left leg missing just below the knee. He had lost a great deal of energon because of it, but his internal repair system had sealed off all fuel lines leading to the area, and the energon being fed into his systems by Jazz were keeping him out of immediate danger.

Sunstreaker, however… Sunny was still 'bleeding' sluggishly from several primary energon lines, and his coolant level was dangerously low, allowing his systems to overheat far too quickly. Ratchet made his decision; Sunstreaker had to have those leaks repaired or he wouldn't make it back to base. The medic had just settled himself down to work when he felt a light touch on his arm.

When Ratchet glanced down, Sideswipe's optics were unshuttered and flickering fitfully. "Ratch…?" the red twin wheezed, clutching at the CMO's arm.

"I'm here, Sides," he replied gruffly, but the Lamborghini had already passed out again. The medic bent back over the yellow twin, patch-welding severed energon lines with hands that he kept from shaking by sheer force of will.

"—radioed Skyfire—"

"Primus—"

"—must've been a Pit of a fight—"

Ratchet tuned out the sounds of the others talking around him, letting his world narrow down to the damaged mech in front of him. He paused in his work just long enough to let them load him and his patients into Skyfire's cargo bay. He only allowed himself to think one thing:

_Live, damn you._

* * *

The all-too-familiar sight of the medbay ceiling was the first thing to greet Sideswipe's optics when he came back online. He blinked up at it serenely, content to just lie there since the pain from his injuries had not yet caught up with him. A soft little sigh next to his audios made him turn his head—and there, right in front of his face, was Ratchet, sitting in a chair with his head draped over Sideswipe's repair table, deep in recharge. Sides could feel his brother stirring beside him on his own table; someone had apparently pushed them together once they had gotten stabilized. He glanced over at his twin, and was inordinately pleased to see that Sunstreaker was recharging comfortably. 

When he looked back at the medic, he barely bit back an oath—two bright blue optics stared into his own from inches away.

They watched each other for a moment, then, gathering his nerve, Sideswipe purred cheekily, "Hey, baby, come here often?" and nearly chortled with glee as Ratchet's face contorted in incredulous fury.

"You—you—" the ambulance stammered, apparently reduced to incoherency by his anger.

"I know, I know—bad Sideswipe." He giggled, then hissed when the motion caused the pain to flare up. Ratchet scowled at him as he stood up and ran a scanner over his injuries.

"You two are lucky to be alive," he told the red twin grimly. "If it had taken us any longer to find you, you wouldn't have been. It's gonna take me _forever_ to put your sorry aft back together." He slapped Sideswipe on the head hard enough to set the red mech's audios to ringing. "What were you thinking? Oh, wait, never mind—you weren't."

"I'm sorry, Ratchet," Sideswipe replied honestly, sitting up, reaching out to grasp the medic's arm, and trying to get him to understand that he wasn't just apologizing for getting himself slagged yet again. "We never meant to hurt you—it's just… well, I guess I don't think about things as much as I ought to," he admitted, lowering his gaze. He was startled when gentle fingers trailed down his cheek to cup his chin and bring his optics back up to meet Ratchet's.

"If you ever, _ever_ do something like this again, your new alt-mode will be a Cavalier," the medic growled, and kissed him. Sideswipe made an involuntary little noise of joy and wrapped both arms around his lover's neck, kissing him back fiercely.

They were dimly aware of Sunstreaker wrapping himself around both of them as best he could, then Ratchet pulled away from Sideswipe to kiss the yellow twin. Sides leaned his head against the white chest, absently tracing the red cross emblazoned on the medic's shoulder with his fingers.

"Does this mean that you're not mad at us anymore?" Sideswipe asked once they had broken the kiss.

Ratchet shook his head. "Oh, I'm still plenty mad at you," he replied softly. "But you scared the slag out of me. I almost lost the both of you." He paused for a moment, as though gathering his nerve, and added, "I… I _love_ you too much to let that happen."

"Really?" Sideswipe breathed hopefully, and kissed the medic again hard when he nodded.

"What Sides is trying to say," Sunstreaker interrupted, sounding as though he were holding back laughter, "is that we love you too. And don't you _dare_ tell anyone I said that."

Ratchet 'hmphed' in amusement, pulling out of his lovers' embrace to eye them critically. "It's not anyone's business but ours," he told Sunstreaker firmly, then made himself switch gears back to 'medic' mode again. "You realize that it's going to take a while for me to reconstruct your leg, right, Sides?" he asked grimly.

"Uh..." the red warrior replied intelligently.

"I'll take that as a no," Ratchet said dryly.

"But you can fix anything!" Sideswipe protested, optics wide with horror at the thought of being unable to move around on his own for the foreseeable future.

"I can't fix anything without the proper supplies," he replied.

"You fixed Sunstreaker!"

"Your_ entire leg_ is gone below the knee, Sideswipe. Sunstreaker may have been in worse shape when he was brought in but at least he didn't have pieces missing. Oh, it won't be that long, you big sparkling," Ratchet added irritably on seeing the pleading look on the red twin's face. "I've got a shipment coming in about two days. Once that arrives, it should take around two or three more days to rebuild your leg from the knee down."

"This is gonna bite, big-time," Sideswipe sulked.

"Actually," Sunstreaker said solemnly, "I think I feel more sorry for Ratchet than you, bro. He's the one that's gonna have to put up with your sorry aft."

Ratchet laughed as the red Lamborghini gave his brother a betrayed look and said under his breath, "That's not very nice, Sunny."

"Nobody ever said I was nice, bit-brain," the yellow twin retorted, thoroughly amused. He slid off of the repair table, doing a full-body stretch once his feet hit the floor.

"Show-off," Sides muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and flopping back onto the table petulantly—then wincing as the movement jarred his knee. "Ow, ow, ow," he hissed, kneading his thigh as though that would sooth his damaged joint.

Ratchet bent down and patted him on the head. "You know, it wouldn't hurt as much if you didn't flop around like a landed fish," he said patiently, as though explaining something to a particularly dimwitted sparkling, and Sideswipe swatted at his hand in annoyance.

The medic sighed and straightened, serious once again. "Look, you're both still low on fuel. Sunstreaker, since you're up and about you should go on down to the common room and get yourself some energon, then go on back to your quarters and rest. I'll make sure your brother gets the same." For a moment, Ratchet thought the yellow Lamborghini would refuse to leave. However, after giving the CMO a hard stare, he stepped up, wrapped both arms around him, and kissed him senseless.

"Just making sure you're still all right with us," Sunny murmured, pulling away just as abruptly as he had advanced. Ratchet nodded a little too quickly as Sunstreaker trailed gentle fingers down his cheek and murmured that he would be back shortly.

"This is going to take some getting used to," the ambulance said faintly, leaning up against Sideswipe's repair table as Sunstreaker walked out the door.

"Yeah," the red Lamborghini sighed, sitting up and scooting over so that he could wrap his lover up in a hug of his own. "I could _definitely_ get used to it, though." He paused as something occurred to him. "You know, I should probably warn you that Sunny can get pretty possessive at times," he added quietly. "Not to mention that he's a little bit of a loose screw."

The medic snorted. "And you're an unmitigated prankster. So tell me something I don't know." At Sideswipe's hurt look, he softened his tone and said, "I knew from the outset that loving you two wasn't going to be easy. Besides, are you really so sure you want this cranky old medic?"

"Primus, yes!" Sides said enthusiastically before sobering. "Back in that cave I think I would have given just about anything to hear you yell at me. I was afraid that you wouldn't come for us. I know that I hurt you with the whole bet business." He gently stroked along the seams of the medic's armor, causing his lover to shiver at the sensation. He pulled him down for a tender kiss, fingers slipping under plating to caress sensitive circuitry and wringing a little noise of pleasure from the white mech. He whimpered a little when Ratchet pushed him away with shaking arms, but the medic was insistent.

"You're not up for this yet," he breathed, voice thick with desire. "You're seriously low on energon, and you're still wounded," he added softly, caressing the red mech's cheek gently. "Here, I'll be right back," and he turned and walked into his office, where Sides knew he kept an energon dispenser for this sort of situation—where his patient was unable to make it to the common room on his own.

He found out that he _was_ hungry, after all—he quickly downed the energon that Ratchet brought him, and gave a satisfied sigh as he felt his systems returning to full functionality. Pain still thrummed through his body, radiating from his amputated knee, but if he damped down his pain receptors—_there_—it faded to a background hum that was easier to ignore.

"You know," Sideswipe said thoughtfully, taking the time to actually_look_ at the medic for the first time since waking, "a trip to the washracks wouldn't hurt you. What did you do, roll on the ground?" His lover's arms were scrubbed clean from the elbow down, and the red hands were immaculate as always, but the rest of the medic's chassis was streaked with dirt and grass stains.

Ratchet glared at him. "I drag myself all over the mountains looking for your sorry aft, then spend the better part of _two days_ putting you back together, and this is the thanks I get?"

Sideswipe's optics widened at that, and he opened his mouth to reply, but he was beaten to the punch.

"He's right, you know," Wheeljack cut in smoothly from where he stood in the door. "You look like slag."

"Don't you start, 'Jack," Ratchet said sourly.

"Well, if you would take care of yourself, I wouldn't have to, would I?" the inventor asked sweetly. "By the way, I'm here to chase you out of the medbay. Prime's orders. Don't worry, I'll keep an optic on your troublemaker, here." He clapped the medic on the back, then steered him toward the door. "Go on, get yourself clean then get in a proper recharge cycle. Sideswipe will still be here when you get back, won't you, Sides?"

The red twin nodded vigorously. "You didn't tell me that you were neglecting yourself for our sakes," he said reproachfully.

"I was not—" Ratchet began to protest, but Wheeljack interrupted.

"Yes, you were," he said firmly, shoving his friend out the door and cycling it shut in his face.

"You realize that he's gonna be pissed at you, right?" Sideswipe asked in solemn amusement.

"You realize that I don't give a damn, right?" Wheeljack retorted. "Besides, someone's gotta make sure he takes care of himself, and Prime and I are about the only ones he listens to. He'll get over it."

"Yeah," Sides muttered, feeling a sudden spike of irrational jealousy that someone else stood so high in his lover's regard. He knew Very Damned Well that Ratchet would have either ignored him or tried to take his head off if he had attempted the little maneuver that the inventor had just pulled.

"Hey now, don't go gettin' all jealous on me," Wheeljack said suddenly, noticing the look on Sideswipe's face and rapping his knuckles on the top of the Lamborghini's head. "Ratchet and I have never had a romantic thought about each other in our lives. We've been friends—just friends—since before the war. He's only known you since we all boarded the Ark and took off for Earth. So yeah, he's gonna listen to me more than he would to you. He's real particular about who he lets bully him."

Optics downcast, Sideswipe nodded. "Think I'm gonna recharge now," he said quietly, lying back down on the repair table. The engineer laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Don't look so glum," he said. "Trust me, he's so head-over-heels for you and your brother, it's not even funny. Why else do you think he was mad enough to ignore you for a whole month?"

"Really?" Sideswipe asked, and when Wheeljack nodded reassuringly, he smiled in relief and let himself slip into recharge.

* * *

Sunstreaker was waiting on him when he got back to his quarters. 

Ratchet had to admit, he looked a great deal better now that he actually had some energon in him. He certainly appeared to be feeling better, for the first thing he did was sweep the medic up in his arms and capture his lips in a bruising kiss.

This was getting to be a habit.

It didn't take the medic long to work out that this was the way that Sunstreaker, uncomfortable with voicing his feelings, reassured himself that Ratchet was still there, still loved him.

So, instead of laying into the yellow mech for not already being in recharge, he relaxed and let him do what he would. Letting Sunstreaker interface with him right now wouldn't cause them any permanent damage, after all—just leave them very drained—and it would probably go a long way toward soothing the Lamborghini's obviously ruffled nerves.

Not to mention the fact that Ratchet had forgotten just how addictive interfacing was.

He hissed with a pleasure bordering on pain as Sunstreaker dug golden fingers into his sides and trailed kisses down his neck almost desperately, and smiled a little when his own fingers pulled a breathy little cry from his lover's vocalizer.

He was vaguely aware of being shoved back onto his berth with Sunstreaker's weight pressing down on top of him—and he nearly bucked the Lamborghini off when he felt the connection slam into place between them.

It was hard and fast and almost brutal without Sideswipe there to buffer his brother's full effect, but underneath it all Ratchet could sense Sunstreaker's desperate need, and the medic flooded the link with his own love and need so that the big warrior above him shuddered and moaned.

It did not take either of them very long to overload, holding onto one another very tightly as they shook and cried out. Sunstreaker was still trembling when he had regained his senses enough to roll off of Ratchet and gather him up in his arms.

Ratchet couldn't help but smile when, on the edge of slipping into recharge, Sunstreaker muttered, "Love you." The medic sighed in contentment and curled up a little closer to his lover before he, too, fell offline.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Alrighty, folks--this be the last chapter. I have to say that I am completely flabbergasted at all the wonderful and talented people who have taken the time to review my little story. I never expected to have such a positive response with my first fic. I love you all.

And, as always, _huge, huge_ thanks go to okami-myrrhibis aka VAWitch for beta-ing this--without her, this thing would have been a huge flop.

(P.S. I have also discovered that I _hate_ the way that FFN eats my formatting. And all of my underscores. Bad, bad FFN.)

* * *

Ratchet was not all that surprised to find Sunstreaker gone when he woke the next morning. He found him in the medbay with Sideswipe, talking with his brother in a low voice. They looked up when they heard him enter, halting their conversation and looking a little embarrassed. Sunstreaker rose to his feet from the chair he'd appropriated, mask of indifference falling back into place as he said to his brother, "I'd better go—I've got to go stare at security monitors with Red Alert this shift." The medic thought for moment that he would pass him by without acknowledging him in any way, but just as he drew alongside, he casually reached up to brush a hand along the white mech's shoulder—and then he was gone. 

"So he spent the night with you, huh?" Sideswipe asked quietly. He shifted to face Ratchet, his one remaining leg hanging over the edge of the repair table and idly swinging back and forth.

The medic nodded, coming up to stand beside the injured twin—and was startled when Sideswipe snaked out a hand to yank him down for a quick kiss. "Thanks," he said, once he had let Ratchet go. "You're the first he's ever actually been with on his own. It made me a little nervous when I realized he'd gone to your quarters instead of ours. He's tried it once before, but I think he scared that poor femme half to death—she was really in a hurry to get away. After that, he always just waited 'til I was there," Sides explained grimly on seeing the CMO's questioning look. "Oh, and don't tell him I told you this, because he'll beat the slag out of me if he finds out—I'm not joking," he added, with a warning look at his lover.

"I don't doubt you, it's just… a lot to take in. I'm beginning to think he's got so many layers I'll never find them all."

"Having second thoughts?" Sideswipe asked dangerously.

"No!" Ratchet snapped back, angered by the implication. "I am not afraid of Sunstreaker, nor would I use him just to get closer to you. If I didn't want him, I certainly wouldn't have… spent the night with him." He stopped for a moment to let that sink in, then hissed, "And yes, he was rough as the Pit—but it was _damned good,_ you overprotective little glitch. I'm not some dainty little femme that can't take a bit of manhandling."

He was just getting started, beginning to feel really angry, when Sideswipe's sudden disarming grin took all the wind out of his sails. "Well then, that's all right," the red twin said, sounding satisfied, and abruptly pulled Ratchet down for another kiss.

"You're incorrigible," Ratchet muttered, leaning into the mouth feathering kisses along his jaw.

"I don't even know what that means…but—whatever you say, babe," Sideswipe replied absently, more concerned with the ways that he could make the medic squirm.

"Where's Wheeljack?" Ratchet managed, suddenly concerned as he recalled that the last place he had seen his friend had been in the medbay.

"Gone back to his lab—got some thingamajig he's all excited about," Sides answered breathily—not to be outdone, the medic's clever fingers had found one of his more delicate sensor nodes.

"You know, just about anyone could walk in here and see you two," someone quipped, and Ratchet leaped away from Sideswipe as though he had been burned. He stared at Jazz in complete mortification, while Sides merely smiled and looked unrepentant.

"Glad to see that you two have made up," the Porsche laughed, walking over and hopping up to sit beside Sideswipe on the repair table as though he had seen nothing unusual. "Yo, Sides, how you doin'?"

Sideswipe grimaced. "As well as can be expected with my leg still missing. I am _bored_ out of my _processor_."

"Didn't look too bored to me. In fact, it looked an awful lot like you were corrupting our CMO," Jazz said slyly, glancing sidelong at the still flustered medic. "Anyway, how's ol' Sunshine?"

They chitchatted in that vein for several more minutes, ignoring the now fuming CMO until finally he ground out, "Jazz, if you are not leaking from your primary energon lines or otherwise dying, then _get out of my medbay!_"

"Man, Sides, you shouldn't leave him hangin' like that—he's even grouchier than normal!" the special ops officer chortled, dodging as the medic lunged at him, then darting out the door, laughing the whole way. And when Sideswipe dared to snicker, one of Ratchet's tools impacted the side of his head.

"You know, you really need to get laid," Sideswipe deadpanned, rubbing his dented head and trying not to grin at the snarling medic.

* * *

Sunstreaker had all but moved in with him while his brother was being reconstructed, and Ratchet finally gave in and replaced his 'charge pad with a bigger one. 

Sideswipe, upon being released from the medbay, immediately followed his twin's lead, and adjusting to having them there nearly overwhelmed the poor medic. Ratchet never doubted that they both loved him—Sideswipe continually found inopportune moments to tell him so, and more than once he had found some little sketch Sunstreaker had done of him while he was not paying attention—but Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, and he doubted that they would ever change. They were brash and loud and violent, and everyone in the Ark knew when they pushed Ratchet a little too far.

You could hear the argument two decks down.

Still, it was worth every moment, the medic mused late one night after coming back to his quarters after a particularly rough shift to find that the pair had beaten him there. They were both sitting on the berth, Sideswipe recharging soundly with his head lolling onto his brother's shoulder, and Sunstreaker seemingly engrossed in a video game that Spike had probably acquired for them.

On hearing the medic enter, the yellow twin saved his game and shut off the console, uncoiling from his seat on the 'charge pad to greet his lover. Sideswipe let out a startled sound when his support was suddenly yanked out from under him, but subsided back into recharge when Ratchet eased down onto the berth and wrapped his arms around him, with Sunstreaker following to lie so that the medic was between them.

This, Ratchet thought as all the tension of the day left him, was how it should be—and he knew that, as long as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were around, he would never be lonely again.

And it would _certainly_ never be boring.


End file.
